


Palimpsest Redemption

by JediMordsith



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types
Genre: Aka the lengths to which Mara will go to prevent the Vong War, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghosts, How to hide from a Jedi Master even though you're Force bonded 101, Mara and Force Ghost Anakin annoy the shavit out of each other, Mara loves her smuggler family and they love her... just don't ask any of them to admit it, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Smut, Young Solo kids are adorable, some descriptions of graphic violence/death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-28
Updated: 2016-09-11
Packaged: 2018-08-11 13:56:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7895266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JediMordsith/pseuds/JediMordsith
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While Luke Skywalker quietly battles Callista Ming for the control and future of the New Jedi Order, Mara Jade finds herself hurtling at breathtaking speed along her own personal collision course with fate - with everyone and everything she cares about hanging in the balance. </p><p>Something is coming… and she'll have to be ready, or they'll all be dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Palimpsest (n): a manuscript or piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing but of which traces remain. 
> 
> A/N: Since bits and pieces of this story keep ambushing me while I'm trying to work on The Gift, I figured I may as well start posting the parts that are done. Story starts approximately 13/14 ABY, with some deviation from cannon beginning about 11/12 ABY.
> 
> Credit for the palimpsest idea belongs fully to the brilliant Deborah Harkness, author of the All Souls Trilogy.

Mara Jade staggered against the edge of the open doorway, squinting against the smoke and fumes, and trying to blink the blood from her vision. When it cleared enough to see, her heart dropped.

At his best - leaning into his screens, utterly absorbed in some enchanting scrap of code - Ghent had looked like a gangly teenager. Asleep, he'd always given the impression of being little more than a child, innocent and oblivious to the ugliness in the universe. He looked barely human at all, now, sprawled across the floor, his body almost completely bisected by the jagged section of wall the last blast had blown inward and through him. His entrails half hung, half tumbled, out of his gaping midsection, the two halves of him barely held together by a few ribbons of flesh on his side. Wide, sightless eyes stared vacantly at the ceiling from a face flecked with his own gore.

_I could have saved him. I could have prevented this._

Her chest felt like it was caught in the crush of a closing docking clamp, and she knew it wasn't just from the increasingly toxic fumes percolating through the ships perforated environmental systems to permeate the air. Dragging her eyes away, she limped toward the bridge as fast as she could, ignoring the cacophony of alarms blaring overhead and the cant to the decking. Everything was damaged, and the ship was listing dangerously.

She hit the release for the bridge door just as her legs gave out, and spilled inside, biting off a curse at the pain that jarred up through her as she hit the ground, getting her hands out in front of her barely in time to spare her head from impact. What remained of Chin was splattered across the right wall beside a shattered console that still burned and sparked. Aves, charred nearly beyond recognition, lay slumped over another.

Mara dragged herself forward with her elbows, ignoring the fresh slices the ruined decking gouged into her arms and legs, and the smear of blood she left in her wake. It took an interminably long time to reach Talon. He  remained where he'd landed, trapped under a section of crumpled wall, thrown halfway across the bridge from his command chair. His dark blue eyes  cracked  open when her left hand shoved aside  jagged  debris to grasp his. 

“Shouldn'tov bribed you t' stay.” 

Mara hadn't thought she could hurt any more than she did.  The sound of her surrogate father's always-cultured tones reduced to a slurred gurgle proved her horribly, hideously wrong.

“I'm so sorry, Talon.” 

Her own voice was  nothing more than a rough whisper as s he leaned over him, feeling her body enter the next phase of complete shut down.  She'd rarely apologized in her life, and truly meant it even less often. Now, she felt the ache of regret to her  bones .

Karrde tipped his head in what she knew was meant to be a firm shake that he could no longer manage. There was no recrimination in his cloudy eyes, only acceptance. He didn't blame her. Would be angry with her for blaming herself, if he'd had enough life left in him to manage it.

“Goin' t' Shada,” he rasped, his eyes slipping half shut. “Peace.” 

Tears burned at the back of her eyes, and her throat closed.  _Shada._ Just another precious friend in the long litany of lives lost.  _Because of me. Because of what **I** chose._

A new alarm joined the fugue around them. They were being boarded.

It didn't matter. Not any more. Reaching out in the Force, she focused on wiring buried deep in the ship. The console trigger had been destroyed, but she wove her mind through the twisted, blackened hull (she knew ever centimeter like the back of her hand) until she found the heart of the system she needed. It took a surprisingly tiny amount of effort to flip the switch.

Across from her, embedded in the wall, a small red light began to flash in warning. If she hadn't known to look for it, she'd never have noticed. Now, it gave her a deep, grim satisfaction. The enemy would take the ship. They'd flow in to every compartment like a tide of filth.

And then they'd die there.

In a matter of seconds, the self-destruct sequence would simultaneously set off four Mandalorian HAVw Juggernaut nuclear bombs, each capable of easily leveling a 30 kilometer city to ash. The combined blast would obliterate every molecule of the ship, burning the invaders alive in a white-hot halo of destruction that swallowed their assault vessels with them, vaporizing the lot of them to space dust and smithereens. One last kick in the teeth from the _Wild Karrde_ and it's crew.

She wouldn't be there to see it.

Mara's left hand gripped Karrde's tightly. Her right wrist snapped, flicking her beloved hold-out blaster into her palm for the last time. A twitch of her thumb switched the power to it's highest, most lethal setting.

Talon was nearly gone; she could feel him in the Force just barely lingering – waiting, for her. Blinking away the toxic smoke that curled around them, she could still see just the slightest vestiges of the warm intelligence that had always animated his eyes when he slanted them one last time in her direction.

“Hang on,” she told him, pressing her blaster to her temple. “I'll come with you.”

**

“Mara!”

Mara's chest burned. Her lungs screamed, and she involuntarily sucked in a ragged, gasping breath. Light assaulted her, triggering a massive ache behind her blurry eyes the instant they opened. No long trapped behind her tightly shut eyelids, scalding tears escaped to slide back toward her temples.

“Be still.” Shada's voice was stern.

_Shada. Still alive. Thank the Force._

Mara latched on to the sound of her friend's voice and focused on regulating her breathing, slowing her heart rate and easing back the disorientation. After several long, harsh moments, the burning subsided and her vision cleared. She was on the floor. Memory filtered back, returning her completely to the overnight shift on the _Wild Karrde_ _'s_ bridge she'd been sharing with D'ukal when she collapsed.

“I'm all right.” Her voice was less steady than she'd have liked, and she winced as she sat up.

“Talon is not going to be pleased.”

Mara grunted an acknowledgment and hauled herself up into the chair she'd lurched out of. “How long was I out?”

“Two and half minutes,” Shada said, eying her before moving with feral grace back to her own seat. “Painful ones, from the look of things.”

Mara cycled through a few basic Jedi pain management techniques,  and brought the pounding in her head down to a manageable level. “ I've had worse. ” 

“And this is getting worse.”

“I know,” Jade muttered, grimly, flexing her stiff fingers before punching a few buttons on the console in front of her. “I'll take care of it.”

Wisely, Shada made no reply except to pick up where they'd left off on sorting out the best route for the upcoming trade run. The former Mistryl uniquely appreciated Mara's lack of tolerance for being coddled, and granted her friend – one of the precious few she had – the same courtesy she'd have wanted if the roles were reversed.

Besides, they both knew reckoning was coming. In a few hours, Talon would wake and there would be music to face. This was the fifth time in the last three weeks that a vision had - without warning - violently ripped Mara from awareness and sent her spasming to the floor, muscles locked in agony. She'd insisted she'd deal with it; he'd told her last time that if it happened again he'd get Skywalker involved, whether she wanted him to or not.

Mara pushed the through lingering soreness and dull ache of the vision until the end of her shift. Then she went directly back to her small cabin and dropped onto her narrow bunk, still fully dressed. The vision played against the back of her closed eyes when they fluttered shut.

As with each of the visions that had come before, it was a harsh warning from the Force that she was hurtling at breathtaking speed along her own personal collision course with fate - with everyone and everything she cared about hanging in the balance.

Something was coming… and she'd have to be ready, or they'd all be dead.

 


	2. I, Jedi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So... this story apparently wants to be told in half flashbacks, half real-time. Don't ask, I have no idea. The muse is erratic, but adamant. 
> 
> Either way, "present day/current time" = 14 ABY. This chapter is all flashbacks that will be important later.
> 
> I swear "The Gift" is not abandoned - it's just taken a couple unexpected twists that are throwing my editing for a loop. - sigh-

_10 ABY_

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling transpari-steel windows of the elegant, rarely-used Coruscant office.

“Jedi Skywalker. What can I do for you?”

Talon Karrde's voice was professional but cordial, his expression pleasant. His presence in the Force was… neutral. Very _intentionally_ neutral.

_Mara's been working with him, then. No surprise._

Karrde had always had good mental shields, particularly for a non-Force sensitive. Luke wasn't sure if it was the man's personality, his profession, or a combination of both that made him so naturally resistant to reading. Whatever it was, he could see Mara's metaphorical fingerprints all over the shielding that was much improved since he'd last spoken to the Information Broker in person.

That was a good sign, wasn't it? Mara using the Force, Karrde receptive to it?

“I've come about Mara's training,” Luke answered politely. They both knew that already, but this was not a conversation that would benefit from being hurried. “She's been the Smuggler's Alliance Liaison for nearly a year now, but she's barely on Coruscant any more than she was before. We've been trying to arrange for her to train with me in the Force, but nothing has come of it. I get the impression that you don't want her to become a Jedi.”

“I don't make Mara's decisions for her. If she wanted to be a Jedi, nothing I could say or do would stop her.”

“She values your opinion – gives it tremendous weight. She would sacrifice a great deal to please you.”

“I have nothing against the Jedi.” Karrde remained perfectly composed.

“It's me you don't trust, then,” Luke conjectured softly, trying not to feel hurt. He genuinely liked Karrde, respected him. Had gotten the impression from their previous interactions that the former smuggler returned the feeling.

“I believe I've repeatedly trusted you with a great deal,” Talon countered evenly. “And you've certainly proven yourself worthy of the investment.”

“But not worthy to train Mara?” Luke probed, frowning slightly. “You think I'll hurt her? I was willing to trade myself to C'baoth for her safety...” he trailed off, the idea branching in his head. “You think I'm trying to steal her.”

To the Jedi's complete surprise, Karrde laughed. “You can't steal Mara from me, Skywalker. She belongs to no one but herself and, with all due respect, you're not in a position to offer her any sort of arrangement nearly as beneficial as the one she has with me.”

“But you don't trust me with her,” Luke maintained, any sense of hurt lost to rich curiosity now. “Why?”

Talon regarded him for a long, silent moment. “Do you know how many times, in the years Mara has been working for me, I have seen her knocked unconscious?” he asked, conversationally.

Luke shook his head.

“Twice,” Karrde informed him matter-of-factly. “The same number of times, not coincidentally, that she's been admitted to a medical center during my employ.”

The Jedi winced, understanding setting in. “Both precipitated by missions undertaken with the New Republic,” he finished the thought. “With me.”

Karrde nodded. “Both missions which involved the use of the Force, by or against Mara – however directly or indirectly.” He fixed the Jedi with a solemn, stern look. “I know about Wayland, Skywalker. I was personally there for the end - and the aftermath. So when I hear about plans to expand Mara's access to the Force, I cannot help but wonder if you have truly considered the cost _to_ _her_ of what you're proposing.”

Talon wasn't a cruel man; he grasped – perhaps more than most – just how admirably the young Jedi was coping with and overcoming the ludicrously insurmountable tasks with which he'd been saddled. In any event, he would be among the last to condemn honest mistakes and unavoidable growing pains.

That didn't mean that he intended to blithely hand Mara over to be part of Skywalker's experiment – to subject her to one of the messier arcs of the Jedi's learning curve.

Skywalker might mean well, but it wasn't _his_ ship she's roamed, haunted and hollow-eyed when the remnants of the Emperor's power ripped her from the ability to eat, sleep - _function_ \- in vicious week-long cycles after their first contact reawakened her personal demons.

Unbidden, Karrde's mind skipped back to a dark night a scant few months after Myrkr.

_He stopped just inside the doorway of the small, uni-sex locker room adjoining the remote base's compact gym. Illuminated only by safety lighting (at 0200 nearly the entire base was asleep), the space had an odd amber half-glow. To the left was a bank of four shower stalls, the geometrically patterned privacy curtains that separated them hanging open._

_In the farthest stall, a shadow moved._

_Cautiously, he walked toward it. He knew who it was – had to be – but that was only more reason to tread carefully. Surprising an assassin (in the mostly-dark, no less) was never something to do lightly, even if she was **your** assassin now. No blasters charged, no knives flew from the shadowed cubicle to carve into his throat. She didn't even look up. _

_He expected obliviousness from Ghent; to see it from Mara was disturbing. But not nearly as gut-wrenching as watching her dig a short, razor-sharp vibroshiv into her bare thigh, dragging it sideways in precise parallel to a half dozen identical cuts. They were all fresh – still trickling scarlet blood down her leg, over her bare feet and the short, sloped distance to the floor drain._

_Karrde sucked in a breath, too far dislodged from his ubiquitous calm by the wrongness of what he was seeing to stay quiet. Mara jerked, the knife edge catching and ripping skin, loosing a tide of blood that was far more than a trickle. Dropping the blade, she cursed and fumbled to her left. Grabbed a rag and pressed it over the wound._

“ _What is it? What happened?” Her head came up, eyes searching his face, suddenly all focus – as if she expected him to tell her they were under attack, that Thrawn had found them and they had to move - immediately._

_Talon shook his head, gestured instead to her leg. “How long?”_

_She glanced down at her hand, still holding the cloth in place. “This cycle? Or in general?”_

“ _Both.”_

_Her fingers clenched. “This is the first time, this cycle. But… years. Before you.”_

“ _This is because of Skywalker?”_

_Mara nodded. Raised reddened eyes sharply to his. “It's not your fault."_

“ _You let him go **for me**.” _

“ _I'm the one stupid enough to have plucked him out of the ass-end of space to begin with,” she reminded him, stubbornly._

_He didn't reply._

“ _The pain makes it quieter,” she told him, reluctantly. “I can… literally bleed his voice out. Make it stop.” She waved her free hand vaguely at her leg. “This causes less damage, impedes functioning less than blunt force, which is the only other thing I've found that works.”_

“ _How long has it been since you slept, Mara?”_

_Only because it is Talon, Mara answers with the truth. “I got three hours two nights ago.”_

_He grimaces. “This will help you sleep?”_

_She shook her head. “I'm on shift in three hours. I – when I get off that shift, the cycle should be over. I can sleep then.”_

_Karrde stepped forward, crouched in front of her, one hand coming to rest on her bloodied knee. “The cycles are getting worse - closer together.”_

_Mara nods. He is the only one who knows. Who sees what she has always so successfully kept hidden._

“ _Do you know what's going to happen, Mara?”_

_She shook her head, suddenly looking very lost and terribly young. “I'll kill him? He'll kill me?” She gave a snort of quavery laughter. “He'll finally starting listening when I tell him I'm going to kill him, and do something horribly 'Jedi' like meditate until he figures out how to unkriff my head?”_

_He knows the answer, but asks anyway. “There's nothing you can do?”_

“ _Just this.” Green eyes, dark and troubled, stared at him from her gaunt face. “I'm so tired, Talon.”_

“ _I know.”_

_Two deceptively simple words, weighted with so much meaning. Mara tipped forward, her forehead landing on his shoulder, and he lifted one strong, steady hand to cradle the back of her head._

“ _We'll figure something out. We always do.”_

Luke had known, intellectually, that Mara's experience with the Force had been vastly different than his own. He'd gotten a much clearer, more visceral understanding of that reality during the Wayland mission and its aftermath. Watching Talon, feeling the lance of deep concern that accompanied whatever hidden memory the other man was reliving - before it was carefully smoothed over (more evidence of Mara's influence) - he begins to think there is much more that he hasn't yet been let in on.

The idea is equal parts tantalizing and worrisome.

“I want what's best for Mara,” Luke said, firmly, his eyes burning with pure intent as they met Karrde's. “C'baoth is proof that the Force and its users – good or bad – will seek her out, whether she wants them to or not.” His robotic fist clenches, and he takes a deep breath. Exhales it, long and slow, releasing the fist as he does. “Tell me your terms.”

**\- -**

_11 ABY_

“You know I can't sign that.”

“We had a deal.” Luke met Mara's eyes as she frowned at him over the gilt-edged rim of her champagne flute, and pushed the ornate document – printed on actual parchment – toward her anyway. “I'll honor my end. I just wanted you to see it.”

Officially, Mara had spent the last six months on partial loan from Talon Karrde and the Smuggler's Alliance to the New Jedi Order; it was regarded as a professional favor to the New Republic (aka Leia Organa-Solo) and the (newly sort-of-self-promoted) Master Skywalker.

According to scrupulously kept records of her time, she'd been assisting with a variety of publicly valuable projects: expanding the official reports of what had transpired leading up to and during the C'baoth debacle (in hopes of preventing similar events in the future – as if that were even possible), assisting Tionne Solusar with identifying, opening and sorting Sith holochrons (which she was uniquely qualified to do, thanks to her history of completing similar tasks for the Emperor), and reviewing lists of Force techniques and training practices with the Jedi Master. This last was purportedly essential in his continuing efforts to refine the new Order's training practices for both effectiveness and safety.

Far, far off record – known only to a handful of people they would both entrust with their lives (and already had, at least once) – Mara had actually been working intimately with the Solusars and Skywalker to complete her own Jedi training. She was a quick study and a hard worker, and had progressed faster than other student Luke had ever had - or ever expected to have again, honestly.

The terms of their training arrangement had been explicitly clear up front: Luke would train Mara to Knighthood, but she wouldn't accept or acknowledge it.

Neither would he.

He'd chafed at that, initially. Then embraced it, wholeheartedly, when he'd found himself kneeling behind her, his arm under her chest the only thing holding her even semi-upright as she'd wretched violently in the aftermath of what should have been a simple exercise. His other hand, pressed to her temple - trying to offer calm in the Force – had shaken, badly, as he'd grappled with a heart-rending reality.

The Order wasn't a safe place for Mara.

He'd wanted it to be. Had harbored a private dream that somehow his New Jedi Order could offer her a place of respite from a public seemingly hell-bent on demonizing her for a past that wasn't her fault.

But Talon had been right. It wasn't just that Luke's fledgling Order had little to offer her; certainly nothing, much as Luke wished it were otherwise, that could match the good she could do – was doing – in Karrde's employ, and her SA Liaison position. It was much, much more complicated. Mara's giftings – and the inextricably intertwined vulnerabilities - were unique.

As much as Luke dreamed of giving Mara a reason to leave Talon and come fight alongside him - not just when his life was in danger, or when New Republic Intel (NRI) could be made to admit it could neither match nor do without her skills and bought her time from a smug Karrde – but _every day,_ the risk was simply too great. So, until the Order stabilized, cemented it's position within the New Republic, and had grown enough to accommodate the kind of position Mara would need, he'd keep his end of the deal. Keep his mouth shut about her training, the true scope and nature of her abilities, and her time on loan to the Temple.

Still, she'd more than proven herself, and the rank was hers by right. There had to be recognition of that somewhere, somehow. Even if no one but them ever got to see it.

Mara watched as Luke produced an old-fashioned fountain pen and scrawled his name and the date on one of the two lines at the bottom of the document. He all but glowed with pride in the Force when he recapped the pen, then set it aside and picked up his own glass.

“I know it's our secret for now. Maybe forever,” he added quickly when he saw her look. “But this is your _birthright –_ reclaimed. Restored. One more thing taken back from the Emperor.”

“No,” she countered, firmly. “ _This_ ,” she tugged at the bond between them– an accidentally permanent holdover from her training which they were trying to keep _very_ quiet about- “is my birthright, Farmboy. _That,”_ she gestured toward the document, “is a formality. I don't need other people's formalities to prove my worth.”

“I know that,” he said, reaching out and catching her free hand. “But you've worked so hard, Mara. Let me have this. Let me honor your sacrifices in the only way I can, right now.”

She met his earnest gaze searchingly for a moment. Then the edges of her lips quirked in a smile.

“I don't know, _Master,_ ” she teased – she'd never called him by his new title in anything other than jest. “I thought the Ithorian Champagne was more than enough. I used to smuggle this stuff, remember? I know how much it costs.”

Her Farmboy-turned-Jedi grinned at her and squeezed her hand before releasing it, settling back in his chair and shrugging one shoulder. “Hazards of hanging out with too many politicians and smugglers,” he joked. “I can't drink the cheap stuff now that I know there's wine like this in the galaxy.” He gave her a mock frown. “You're a corrupting influence - the lot of you.”

Mara laughed - that real, rare laugh so few beings were ever privileged to hear – and his heart swelled. He thought he could keep the secret of her Knighthood forever if she'd promise to keep coming around when she could, sharing that laugh with him, their bond letting him see how it sparkled like sea foam in sunshine on the tides of the Force.

“You're welcome.” She leaned over and clinked her glass against his in a toast.

Later, when the flutes were dry and the _Fire_ winked out into hyper-space, carrying Mara back to her busy, transient life, Luke had traced his fingers over the fine parchment.

 _Someday, Skywalker,_ she had promised, silhouetted against the lights of the Fire's interior as she paused at the top of the boarding ramp. She'd spoken directly into his head, the promise for him alone. _Someday, I'll sign._

On the tarmac, he'd only nodded, a gesture easily interpreted as a silent farewell by anyone who might be around to see. Now, as his fingertips – the real ones – lingered over the empty space that would someday hold her name, he made his own vow.

 _I'll make this work,_ _Jade_ _. I'll find a way to make the Order somewhere you can be._

 


	3. The Ties That Bind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Portions of this chapter were borrowed or adapted from The Last Command, by the Great Zahn from whom we got Mara to begin with. 
> 
> You can also expect to find explication of Mara's gifts, her bond with Luke, and set up for all that is to come...

_14 ABY_

Talon Karrde set a thick mug of steaming caff down with a soft _click_. He carried his own around the plastisteel table and settled into the elegantly carved antique greel-wood armchair he preferred.

“If you scare Markab like that again, I expect he'll tack a substantial pain-and-suffering fee onto my next bill.”

“It's hardly the first time I've done significant asset transfers on short notice. He can't be worried about a heart attack because he hasn't got one – no lawyer has.”

“When the predators howl warning to one another, every creature in the forest runs for cover.” Karrde sipped his caff. “If _you_ are worried enough to update your living and final wills, he's not unreasonable to assume he won't stand a chance against whatever you're preparing for.”

Mara snorted, but made no reply. Angiatt Markab may have been sharp as a nexu's tail spike when it came to manipulating financial investments but, despite his size, the rotund Caridan wouldn't last a minute in any real physical contest. She could just imagine his long, feathery eyebrows angling straight out and up, away from his startled face like an old-style antenna stretching for a clearer signal as he'd read the amendments she'd sent.

“Speaking of individuals with reason to worry,” Talon continued conversationally, “Master Skywalker has been unusually quiet.”

“Why didn't you wake up to an x-wing in the hangar bay and a panicked Jedi Master pounding down the door of my quarters, you mean?”

“I'm simply pointing out that it isn't like him not to express concern when it comes to you and potentially negative interactions with the Force.”

“I don't have him bound and gagged in the hold of the _Fire_ , if that's what you're worried about,” Mara assured her boss, amused. “He's been on Myrkr since a few days before this madness started. Leading an 'immersive learning experience' to help some of this most experienced students learn to keep their heads – and their skins - intact when they find themselves without the Force they've come to rely on.”

“He finally listened to you.” Karrde looked faintly surprised, but pleased.

“That or he'd hoped to engender sympathy for Callista's plight and prevent similar consequences if any of his students end up Forceless.”  
  
Talon shook his head. “Give him – and yourself - due credit, Mara. We both know he's taken everything you said to heart since your reconciliation after Ming left him.”

Mara glanced down at her cooling caff. “I know,” she acknowledged softly. Then she cleared her throat and looked back up, gaze steady. “I was thinking I'd swing by Yavin on my way to meet Aves for that NRI job in the Anoat Sector. Skywalker will be back tonight, and one overnight there won't put me far behind schedule.”

“I think that's reasonable,” Karrde agreed. “You'll let me know if the consultation results in the need for alternative arrangements for Anoat?”

“Of course – but I'm sure it won't. And before you say it, yes, I'll be careful on this job – I have no more confidence in the NRI's projections than you do. I won't do anything stupid, and I'll bring both of us, the _Fire,_ and the _Demise_ all back fully intact.”

“You'd better,” he warned, his eyes glinting with a teasing light in spite of the seriousness of his tone. “I have Shada now, you know. You can be replaced.”

“I'll keep that in mind,” she snarked back, letting her lips quirk in a half-smile. Giving him a cocky half-salute, Mara gathered her mug and data pad and stood. At the door, she turned and lifted her mug slightly. “Thank you. For the caff.”

Sapphire eyes met hers and held. “You're welcome… for the caff.”

\- -

“Master Skywalker?”

Luke turned, quickly pasting over the harried expression he knew he wore with a mask of pleasant calm that was better suited to his position as Grand Master. “Yes?”

The apology in Tionne's tone told him that she knew how harassed his day had been in spite of his solid attempts to pretend otherwise. “Captain Jade is on the comm, requesting to speak to you. I hate to disturb you with it now, but -.”

“But Mara is on my always-put-through-immediately list,” he finished. “Of course. Can you pipe it through to my office, please? And tell Streen I'll be a few minutes late to see him off.”

“Of course, Master.”

Making it to his office with only two more interruptions, Luke dropped his stack of data pads and other paraphernalia and hurried around his desk to flip the switch on the comm. The holo blipped to life, and Luke couldn't help but smile. Mara lounged in the pilot's seat of the _Fire,_ booted feet up on the console, arms crossed over her chest.

“Mara! To what do I owe the pleasure of this call?”

“Just checking to verify you didn't get eaten by the furry lizards.” She made a show of peering at him. “Did you adjust the holo-filters or are you really entirely free of bite marks from those little buggers?”

Luke chuckled. “I kept well clear this time,” he assured her.

“Well,” she remarked, “that sounds worth celebrating. Maybe I should drop by for a drink.”

The Jedi's eyes lit up in a very un-Grand-Masterly way. “You're going to be in-sector?”

“Day after tomorrow your time, if you can spare a few hours.”

“Day after tomorrow would be perfect,” he told her, delighted. “The last of the students and staff will leave that morning for mandatory vacation/family time, and Han and Leia won't be here until the next day. Will you be able to stay to see the kids?”

Mara shook her head regretfully. “No, I'm due elsewhere by then. But I'll make a point of seeing them soon.”

Luke's comm link chimed, and he grimaced. Mara sat up, taking her feet off the console and leaning forward. “Sounds like duty calls, Skywalker. Transfer me to Artoo before you go rushing off to save the Academy, will you? I assume he'll be handling hangar traffic with everyone else gone.”

“As usual,” Luke agreed, reaching for the switch. “Mara – I'm glad you're coming.”

She favored him with a quick smile. “Me too. Now get going.”

\- -

Alone in hyper-space, Mara sat cross-legged on her bed in the _Fire's_ main cabin. On their night setting, the lights glowed softly off the navy satin of the short sleeping shift she wore. The polished silver of her lightsaber – once Vader's, then Luke's, before it was hers – was cool and reassuring against her palms as she rolled it from hand to hand. It was an old habit that she still fell into sometimes when thinking.

She'd gotten the message the Force was sending loud and clear – a choice was coming. It would be hers, and too much would depend on it. She'd done everything she could within the vast ambiguity that remained. She'd updated her living will, designating Shada her next of kin for decision-making purposes. Talon had held that honor for years, but it was a burden he'd always borne heavily. Shada shared Mara's ruthless temperament towards herself; would take comfort in having done what Mara would have wanted, regardless of how much it pained anyone else. Mara had updated her final will, as well, ensuring that if the required choice killed her, her assets would be distributed in ways most likely to protect those she loved.

_Anoat._

It rang in the back of her head, a call and a warning. Whatever decision she'd have to face, she'd make it there – she could feel it. She wasn't going to tell Skywalker about that certainty, or the visions. He'd just insist on coming, and if she failed the Solos would need him. Talon would need him. He would be the last line of defense between everything she loved and the hell that was coming. 

Mara's grip on her lightsaber constricted until her knuckles were white with the pressure.  Everything was going to change at Anoat – and there was no way to guess what that change might look like if she succeeded. Failure meant death – for her, and everyone else. 

Which brought her back to where she was now: in the emptiness of hyper-space, hurtling toward Skywalker for her last night before her life as she knew it ended one way or the other. About to take a risk she'd never before been able to justify – to allow herself something she'd never thought she would.

Because it was now, or never.

\- - 

_9 ABY, Coruscant_

Mara awoke with a start. In front of her, the comm screen softly hissed a solid blue error message. Vague, polite words suggested there had been a technical glitch and that she try her message again later. Just as she had been doing for a solid standard hour before her body - still barely recovered from the extensive physical and neural regeneration required to repair a direct, unprotected hit by a Star Destroyer's Ion Cannon – had short circuited her concentration and forced her into recuperative sleep.

Deep in the recesses of her mind, an alarm bell rang again, its once-familiar trill rising in speed and intensity with every fraction of a second. Instinctively, she slid the tiny blaster from her left sleeve into her palm, breathing a prayer of gratitude to the Force that her long-ago backups had still been stashed – a bit dusty, but fully charged and undisturbed – in the Palace's library under the thick, yellowed, yawn-inducing cover that professed to hold _The Complete History of Corvis Minor._

Reclaimed less than a day ago, the blaster fit her hand neatly; the solid weight reassuring against the certain knowledge that - somewhere nearby - there was danger. Rolling out of the chair in front of the desk at which she'd nodded off, Mara knelt in a crouch. Her physical senses failed to locate the threat. Her rooms were silent as the grave; pressing her ear to the door revealed no sound in the outer hallway, either.

Taking a deep breath, Mara let her eyes unfocus and reached out in the Force. Her skills had been erratic, at best, since the Emperor died; as she'd snapped at Karrde - all too recently, it felt - she couldn't 'turn it on and off like a sensor pack - not any more'. But (before the ion cannon had knocked her into the med center for a lost month) she'd been furtively practicing, struggling to regain a semblance of the skills she'd once commanded.

For a few long moments, there was nothing. Then… something.

Mara's stomach lurched and her head swam as she collided provocatively with another Force presence unlike anything she'd ever encountered before. It was… dichotomous, but strangely whole. Half formed, but still somehow complete. Terrified, but only partially aware, in a dizzying way. Without warning, it seemed to discern her – grasp that she was a _being,_ not just an unidentifiable road block in it's undirected search. 

_Help! Help us! Help Mamma!_ They  weren't words; just the Force-interpreted maelstrom of fear and plaintive need swirling through the combined presence in the split second before it latched onto her with a fierce grip and clung tenaciously. 

Mara felt the presence burrow into her chest. For a moment, she stopped breathing. It had been  _so long_ since she'd felt a connection to another being in the Force. And  _never_ had she encountered such pure, unguarded innocence. Such blind trust and brilliant faith. 

Tipping her head back, she rested the back of her skull against one stout leg of the Fijisi wood desk and  took slow, deep breaths. Cautiously,  she brushed against the new presence lodged within herself. It reached back, eagerly, inarticulate in its frantic and chaotic emotions. 

_The twins._

Organa Solo had given birth to twins  while Mara was unconscious in the med bay. Direct descendents of Vader, they'd no doubt been s teep ed in Force power since the moment of conception. Now, like every untrained Force user, the y instinctively responded to heightened emotions by flinging their power outward, seeking succor and aid. 

Mara caught muddled, distorted flashes of light and sound as their tiny, undeveloped minds tried to communicate with their shared but limited understanding of the source of their alarm.

She fumbled, tentative and wary of touching them intentionally; aware, even as they triggered her natural gift for bonding and made themselves guilelessly at home in her larger, more solid presence – which undoubtedly registered as a protective haven to their shallow, inexperienced perception – of how _wrong_ it was for such vestal presences to come too close to her battered, broken and defiled Force presence. 

Despite being rusty from years of disuse and inaccessibility, she was able to sufficiently reclaim her old skills to contain the bond with soft barriers. Enough to protect the babies' place within her, without causing them discomfort if they accidentally flailed into the boundary walls. Assured that adequate walls were in place, she delicately reached back to them with soothing thoughts _,_ attempting to smooth over their panic enough to sift through the disjointed impressions flowing across the bond. 

Muffled, as through the thick wood or metal, she discerned a sustained hum punctuated by low, jarring _whoomps_. Murmured voices; indistinguishable but with a solidly familiar feel. A current of tension, rapid, jerky movements. Cold. Then, without warning, the fluttering fear exploded into full-blown terror. Mara's head smacked hard against the wood behind her as she jerked, too long out of practice in dampening the flow of emotions between herself and another with a full-fledged bond in play.

She spared a grim, half-second's thought for utterly kriffed she was going to be if anyone – Skywalker, Organa, or (Force forbid) _Thrawn_ ever discovered this link the children had unintentionally forged with her, and (more damningly) how they'd even been able to in the first place. 

Mara  shoved the thought aside. The Solo twins were in danger – it lurked, literally, at their doorstep.  Anger rolled in her belly; was this how she'd been taken, all those years ago? An Imperial assault in the dark of night, exhausted new parents overwhelmed by a sudden slaughter, despite their best intentions and preparations? 

Fresh fury roared through her. Mara a djusted her grip on her blaster and closed her eyes for two heartbeats, intentionally chilling her blood to ice in her veins. 

_Be still, little ones. It's all right. I'm coming._

\- -

Leia dragged herself awake, fully prepared to court-marshal whomever was making enough racket for the noise to reach her in the depths of her family's private suite on the Presidential Floor of the Palace. Force help her if they woke the babies – she might seriously pursue having them deported to the Outer Rim. Still blinking the crust of sleep from her eyes, she reached out with a fumbling hand. Found Han's side of the bed still warm, but empty. Alarm ticked over in her mind, its pace picking up as she fumbled to throw back the blankets and lowered her bare feet to the plush, neutrally colored carpet of her bedroom. Grabbing the blaster from it's concealed holster on the side of the luxuriously padded headboard, her long, elegant nightgown whispering around her ankles as she moved, the Princess headed for the main living space.

Two steps outside the bedroom door, she dove for the floor as shots rang out directly in front of her. Her back hit the wall and she arched upward, blaster aimed toward the sound before she realized it was Han. Bare chested, wearing only a pair of hastily-dragged-on sleep pants, he stood, blaster raised, sinking flawless shots into the improbably thick wooden entrance door of their suite. Sensors shrieked as the emergency mechanism triggered, and a heavy metal security door slammed down across the opening. It wasn't a second too soon; as it hurtled downward, Leia finally identified the hum of an electronic lock-breaker and the gut-twisting click of the lock failing.

“Call Security,” Han demanded, spinning to face her, his face grim. “Then get Winter and grab the twins. That door ain't gonna hold 'em long.”

\- -

Leia paced in front of the heavily barricaded door of Winter's bedroom. One hand clasped her blaster tightly; the other held a death grip on her light saber. The Last Princess of Alderaan was anything but helpless. If Thrawn wanted her babies, he'd have to kill her – and Force knew the Empire had tried and failed at _that_ particular task for years.

Her eyes met Han's when, outside the room, the heavy blaster fire ended in a hard metallic crash that echoed away into silence.

“They're in,” he confirmed her fears, quietly.

Leia's eyes shot to her precious babies. They had dumped one of Winter's drawers, lined it with the softest blanket on hand and nestled the infants into it. Behind an overturned dresser, Winter knelt in front of the makeshift crib. Her long white hair laid in a loose braid over her shoulder, and her expression was the icy mask she'd worn for so many years as Targeter during the war. Leia couldn't have asked for a better last-ditch guardian for her children, but she ached at how little truly stood between the well-armed Imperials outside and her twins' tiny, fragile bodies.

Her head tilted suddenly, eyes narrowing.

“What?” Han was there, beside her, his own eyes searching for whatever she saw.

“They're not crying.” Leia looked at him urgently. “They _stopped crying_. They're not afraid, Han.”

He and Winter looked at the babies, who gurgled contentedly and stared back.

“What do they know that we don't?”

\- - 

Calrissian and a New Republic Colonel were battling an Imperial Rear Guard on the main staircase. She avoided the entire mess, backtracking and taking a sharp left at the first cross-corridor. Perhaps Thrawn hadn't _truly_ understood what _Emperor's Hand_ meant. 

Mara set her jaw – he was damn well going to find out now.

Stopping before a wall panel that looked exactly like every other down the long hall, she stood on tiptoes to run her fingers along the carved frieze that edged the top. Found the disguised indentation she knew would be there. Pressed with two fingers, smiling tightly as the panel unlocked with a faint click. 

Sending fresh waves of soothing calm to the Solo twins, she slid the panel shut behind her. Three minutes and several staircases later, she emerged into the shadows of the Presidential Floor – just in time to hear the strike team breach the door.

_Leia Organa Solo_ , she  shouted silently, even as she sprinted toward the apartment.  _It's Mara. I'm coming up behind them. GET DOWN!_

In the apartment, Han let out a grunt as Leia unexpectedly tackled him, rolling them both down and away. She landed on top of him, breathless, her head pressed tight to his chest, their hearts pounding in unison as a new weapon – it's timber and caliber distinct from the others – barked five lethal shots in short succession.

Her ears rang as she lifted her head cautiously into the silence. Alone in the clearing haze of wood chips and the wisps of smoke from smoldering upholstery, stood Mara Jade. Her eyes were unfocused, staring into the middle distance – a  'Jedi'  look Leia knew all too well from Luke's face. 

“It's all right,” she whispered, as if to herself. “It's all right.”

Behind their  parents , the twins cooed, tiny hands waving and feet kicking in delight. 

\- -

L uke stepped into the darkened room and paused. Reached out in the Force when his entrance was met by neither movement nor sound. Frowned when he felt the psychic equivalent of a flinch. 

“Mara? It's just me, Luke Skywalker. We're here to get you out.”

“No.”

“What?” Deciding that if she hadn't already shot him she probably wouldn't, Luke stepped further into the room and flicked on the low desk light.

“No,” she repeated. “I can't leave – they'll haul Ghent into interrogation in my place. He's my responsibility. 

“We'll take care of Ghent. You have to help us find and dismantle Wayland – stop the next round of Clone Wars.” Luke turned, froze. “Leia didn't tell me you were hurt in the attack.” 

“I wasn't.” Mara lifted her chin challengingly, blackened eye and split lip dark and livid with bruising in the glare of the light. “Colonel Bremen doesn't like having his manhood- or his ability to do his job – questioned.” 

“You let him hit you?” Luke was dumbfounded. Capable as Bremen was, Mara could have floored him in the blink of an eye, even without the Force – he was certain of it.

“I provoked him, he snapped. Got so flustered by what he'd done that he forgot about threatening Ghent entirely.” She shrugged. “Crude, but effective.”

At a loss for anything to say, Luke reverted to focusing on the mission. “Come on, we're leaving. Leia will get Ghent out of Bremen's reach – you have my word.”

“We get Ghent out of reach first.” 

“We don't have time,” Luke protested. “The restraining bolt on the Guard Droid isn't going to hold forever, and we need to -.”

“Ghent first, or I'm staying and you can stop the damn clones on your own.”

Luke let out a frustrated huff. “Fine, let's go.”

\- -

_9 ABY, Wayland_

“Ah, Skywalker. You too?” C'baoth shook his head, his laugh tinged with madness. “Like Grand Admiral Thrawn, you fail to understand. The true power of the Jedi is not in the simple tricks of matter and energy that are cloning. The true might of the Jedi is that we alone of all those in the galaxy have the power to grow beyond ourselves. To extend ourselves into all reaches of the universe.”

Luke glanced at Mara with a puzzled look that quickly turned to tight wariness. She'd gone white as Nubian porcelain, and stood perfectly still.

“I don't understand what you mean,” Luke said, trying to keep half an eye on Mara while he looked back at C'baoth.

“Mind control.” It was Mara's voice, hoarse and raw. Her left arm curled around her stomach as if she might be ill. “That's how you're growing the clones so fast. They don't need their minds intact – just their bodies. You puppet them like marionettes.”

“But that's not sustainable,” Luke's gaze darted between the two of them, frantically trying to catch up. “Even with the Dark Side, you can't control that many minds – not by yourself.”

C'baoth's eyes glittered. “But I won't be by myself, Jedi Skywalker. Not entirely.”

“No!” Mara gripped her blaster. “I won't let you.”

“Mara?” Luke's voice was low and tense. _Tell me what I'm missing._

The Jedi Master's stare swung to him. “She hasn't told you,” he crooned. “About her gift.”

“Shut up!”

C'baoth ignored her, flicking away the bolts that spat from her blaster as if they were nothing. Another flick sent a hard blow of invisible energy into her chest, knocking her backwards and off her feet. Luke's own hand shot out, cushioning her fall just before she hit. Immediately, he ducked to her side, dropping to one knee to wrap an arm around her waist, ease her back upright. Her chest burned from the impact, and she knew that if she lived to see tomorrow it would be black and purple with deep bruising. She struggled to force air back into her lungs.

“Every being,” C'baoth began, his tone suddenly as placid as if they were taking in an academic lecture on a sunny afternoon in a praxium amphitheater, “resonates on a unique frequency in the Force. It is part of what allows us to be individual beings, defined and separate from one another. The more closely related beings are to one another, the more similar the pitches of their resonance. In something so close as siblings, particularly twins, there is a degree of overlap – what you feel as a bond.”

Luke immediately thought of Leia, and her twins. How easy it was to feel and communicate with them, compared to Ben, Yoda, or any other Force sensitives he'd met. It was the first time he'd ever heard any sort of explanation for the twin bond, but it made perfect sense. At his side, he felt Mara's body coil even more tautly – tighter than a bowcaster ready to fire.

C'baoth nodded, as if watching the gears in Luke's head turn. “Mara Jade has a rare gift – she exists on a universal resonance frequency.” He smiled, distractedly, his voice softening as he were reciting poetry. “She is the melody heard on the wind on every world, the whisper of the tides in every ocean.”

His eyes sharpened again, fixed on Mara with something Luke could only describe as _lust_.

“The universal safe-cracker of every mind in the galaxy. She can match and bond with _anyone –_ whether they wish it or not _.”_

Luke felt Mara shudder, and he rose, pulling her to her feet. She leaned on him unsteadily, but he heard (more than saw) her defiantly slap a new power pack onto her blaster as C'baoth finished greedily.

“Amplified through her, my power is more than adequate to simultaneously control every clone our dear Grand Admiral will churn out in the next two decades.”

Luke inclined his head to look at Mara. “Is that true?” he asked quietly.

“Not going to happen,” she gritted, pulling out of his hold, taking a few purposeful steps away from him. “I told you, I'll die first.”

_So yes,_ Luke thought, his stomach clenching. 

He though fleetingly of Jomark, C'baoth's vision of Mara kneeling before him.  What had been an image of degrading fealty now flashed  against his mind starkly emblazoned with the added horror of the mad Jedi funneling massive amounts of invasive, corrupted energy through Mara's slender form. Channeling it into a single, solid stream that refracted through her like a prism, radiating out the other side in vast, mind-destroying  currents . 

_That_ was how she'd been able to hear the Emperor anywhere in the galaxy; he'd simply locked her natural gift into  _his_ frequency. How she'd been able to find him in his x-wing, dead in space; heard him  effortlessly the first time he tried calling out to her in the Force on the Chimera while they rescued Karrde.

“Mara won't help you,” Luke told the Jedi Master gravely, gripping his light saber. He side-stepped, planting himself firmly beside Mara in a combat stance. “And neither will I.”

\- -

It was over suddenly.

Luke lay still for a long moment, gasping for air, fighting against the unconsciousness threatening to drag him under. Vaguely, he felt the stones being pushed away from around him.

“Are you all right, Luke?” Leia asked.

The Jedi dragged his eyes open. Dust-covered and bruised, his sister looked much like he felt. “Fine,” he managed, hauling himself from beneath the remaining stones and staggering upright. “The others?”

“Han's going to need medical treatment – he's got some bad burns,” she told him, grimly, catching his arm and helping to steady him.

“So does Mara,” Karrde put in grimly, coming up the steps. His vornskyrs hobbled at his heels, noticeably worse for wear from their attack on C'baoth. In his arms, the smuggler cradled the unconscious form of Mara Jade. Her tunic was blackened across the chest from the mad Jedi Master's Force lightening. Her face and hands were coated with dust, and a runnel of blood seeped from her nose, down her chin and throat. Karrde nodded toward the jagged crack in the rear wall, through which Luke could see the bright twinkle of a single star. “The _Wild Karrde_ will be here any second, and we need to be on it – immediately.”

\- -

The sun had set beneath a thin layer of western clouds and the colors of the evening sky were beginning to fade into the encroaching darkness of night when Luke stepped onto the open balcony of the private room at the premier Coruscant Medical Center.

“You're in the wrong place - Solo is two floors up.”

Luke turned, his eyes searching the greenery – strategically chosen and arranged to be soothing for recovering patients – until he located Mara. She sat on the wide dura-crete railing, one leg casually thrown over it, dangling over nothing. Contrary to med center rules, she wore not a med gown but something closer to her usual smuggler's attire – black pants tucked into knee high boots, a sage green tunic, and a cropped black nerf hide jacket. A utility belt was slung across her hips, though the holster attached to it was empty.

“I know. I just saw him,” Skywalker said, walking around the small tables and heavily cushioned chairs to lean his elbows against the railing a meter or so from her. He felt her sense in the Force tighten. “How are you feeling?” 

“That depends.”

“On?”

“Whether or not you're going to accept your sister's decision. I know they told you.”

Luke turned his head to look at her curiously. “You think I wouldn't?”

“I think it can't sit well for the future leader of the restored Jedi Order to know that his guaranteed best and brightest pupils are going to have a Force-strong god-mother who _isn't_ part of the Order.” She looked at her hands, clenched around the dura-crete in front of her. “Who's apparently a magnet for Dark Side attention.” 

“A god-mother who will know exactly how they feel, you mean?” Luke asked, mildly, returning his gaze to the city below. “Jaina and Jacen are already a target, Jade – will be, their whole lives, for reasons beyond their control. I can't think of anyone better to help them – protect them \- through that than you.” 

Mara's head came up, her eyes narrowing suspiciously even as she felt the first, cautious stirring of hope. “You know I have exactly zero experience with children, right?”

She'd made the same argument when she'd gone to confess to Han and Leia earlier about her unintentional bond to the twins. To explain that she'd tried to break it off, but hadn't been able to find a way to do so without hurting them. That she'd softened it, loosened it as much as she could, but that she didn't dare attempt more without their informed consent. When she'd gaped, stunned, at their counter-proposal that she leave it intact and become the infants' god-mother instead.

Skywalker grinned, his Force presence sparkling with amusement identical to what Leia had displayed when she'd said the same words: “So you'll learn.”

_You're bonded, aren't you?_ Leia had added.  _They'll help._

Mara considered him for a moment, silently. “Will you tell anyone? About my… gift?”

Luke shook his head firmly. “No. Not without your permission, at least.”

“To protect the twins, and Leia,” she nodded, following the logic.

“To protect _you_ , Mara.” Luke shot her a slightly exasperated look. “You don't deserve to be targeted for how you are any more than Jaina and Jacen do.” His expression softened slightly, took on a edge of hope. “You could train with me, you know. Learn to use your power better – to protect yourself, if nothing else.” 

He didn't add  _and the twins,_ but Mara caught the line of thinking anyway and shot him a glare. It was borderline blackmail, and they both knew it. Unfortunately, that didn't make the point any less valid. 

“I'll think about it,” she muttered grudgingly, turning pointedly back to the people and lights below. “But don't hold your breath.”

\- -

_Early 11 ABY_

“Oh, no.”

From where he sat comfortably on the floor, Luke looked up, amused.  He squinted slightly as the sunlight – slanting in at an angle as they moved quickly toward sunset – caught him in its glare.

“You didn't think you'd get all the way through your training without any meditation at all, did you?”

Mara folded her arms across her chest and shook her head fiercely. “I don't meditate, Skywalker.”

“Every Jedi meditates, Mara.”

“I'm not going to be a Jedi,” she reminded him, flatly.

“You still need to know how,” he reproved, evenly.

“I _know_ how,” she shot back. “I just _don't_. It doesn't agree with me.” 

Luke's curiosity piqued. “What?”

Mara shifted un easily ; it was a testament to how  much she'd come to trust him that she was willing to show even that much  discomfort . Few others would have been so privileged. 

“It makes me nauseous,” she admitted.

Intrigue warred with concern in Luke's head. “A learned response?” he wondered, aloud. “From previous bad experiences?”

Mara lifted a shoulder in a slight shrug. “It's always been that way.”

Luke gestured toward the floor across from him. “Maybe I can help.”

Reluctantly, Mara crossed the room and settled into position in the designated spot. “ For the off-record,” she said, grimly, “I think this is a stupid idea.” 

“Duly un-noted,” Luke replied with a slight smile. Mocking references to the clandestine nature of her training had become a recurring inside joke between them, and he let himself be reassured by her use of it now, despite the tension evident in the lines of her body. “Just relax, Mara. Don't try to rush or push – just ease your way into the flow.”

Mara gave him a slightly odd look, then a tight nod, before closing her eyes. Luke let his own eyes close but, instead of  sliding into a meditative state himself, he  held back and focused on watching Mara. 

In light of her gift, they'd foregone a training bond and he'd adapted the methods Yoda and Ben had used to with him accordingly. It had felt strange, initially, not to have that connection when trying to teach her to do things. But, as in all situations it seemed, they worked well together and had quickly fallen into patterns that  suited them both. 

Careful to stay outside her solidly constructed boundaries, Luke gauged her descent into the Force as closely as he could. This initial step often t ook the longest, and  could be the most frustrating for new students from what he'd  seen and read . It took practice, and calm, to sync with the  F low.  D istractions, hurry, or other stressors could interrupt the process for hours until a Jedi eventually got the hang of it. 

Mara took a moment to settle her breathing into a standard concentration pattern. Then she took a single psychic step forward and plunged instantly into the deepest part of the ever-present current of the Force. 

For a few stunned seconds Luke simply stared - confounded – at the point where she'd disappeared.

The deluge was overwhelming. Coruscant teemed with life of every description. Humans and aliens from scores of worlds clogged it's buildings, walkways and airways, their minds screaming a cacophony of thoughts and emotions in violent whorls of color and deafening chatter in legions of tongues. They merged in the Force with the smaller but no less real and prolific minds of their pets, beasts of burden, the livestock that would become their meals, and the inevitable pestilence that follows civilization. In the meticulously cultivated parks rooted throughout the city-planet's landscape, miniature kingdoms of vibrant plant life thrummed with diversity as vivid as that of their sentient counterparts. 

Mara felt herself begin to  rupture \- dissolv ing into the flow - and scrambled backward, away from the tide that clung to her, trying to suck and drag her into its depths. 

_Connect._ Her fingertips tingled with a prickly heat, and flexed outward of their own accord.  _So close._ It was hers for the taking. With a thought, she could pluck any of them – any life obliviously tracing it's way across the globe – and link to it. Know it, down to it's very cells. Make it part of herself. 

_No, no, no, no! Dammit, Skywalker!_ Mara stumbled back, trying to surface, disengage before she lost herself in the vertigo or accidentally touched and ruined one of those innocent lives. 

_Skywalker!_ His name echoed through him, jerking Luke out of his shocked stupor.  Perpetually well-connected to the Force, Luke braced himself and thrust his mind into the raging F low , diving after Mara's sparking, floundering presence. 

For a few frantic seconds, he groped for her, struggling to get a grip amid the rushing tide that consumed them. Then his fingertips brushed hers. Shoving himself just a little deeper, he seized her hand and hauled her toward him, hard.

Luke hit the ground sharply, and lay gasping, staring blindly at the ceiling, disoriented. He'd come out of the Flow… but not the same as he'd gone in. He fumbled at his head, pressing his hands to his temples but finding nothing. No blood, no injury – but throbbing. And nausea that wasn't his own.

“Mara,” he rasped, rolling sideways and propping himself dizzily on one arm with a grunt of effort.

She lay face down in a pool of  fading light , struggling to push herself up on arms that shook painfully. She wretched badly, then vomited a mouthful of bile. 

“Kriff.” Luke half-crawled, half-dragged himself to her side. Worked an arm under her chest, taking her weight just before her own arms gave out. When he'd managed to steady himself, Luke reached out a still-trembling hand and pressed it to Mara's head. Tried to funnel calm and comfort into her as she spat what remained of her stomach contents onto the Temple's stone floor. 

He could feel everything she felt. Feel the pressure throbbing through her, as if too much matter had been stuffed into a vessel unable to expand enough to hold it. Feel the lingering vertigo of slamming into and out of the Flow in short, harsh succession.

And he could see the immutable chain of energy linking them in a flawless, instantly forged Force bond.

_Oh Gods, Mara - I'm sorry._

_\- -_

When there was nothing left in her, Mara tried to push away from Luke's supporting arms. He rolled her onto her back, well clear of the mess, and sank heavily back to a slumped, seated position himself.

“Are you all right?”

It was a ridiculous question. He could feel plainly that she wasn't. Physical discomfort aside, she was miserable. Wracked with guilt that she hadn't flatly refused to have any part of meditation – why hadn't she listened to that whispered warning in the back of her mind? She should have _known_ _better._ She was appalled that he was reading her so clearly, and disgusted at having made such a display of herself in response to what should have been a simple task. 

Overriding all of that, though, was a thick, pervasive  cloud of sick shame. 

Mara _knew_ what it was to be unwillingly Force-bound to another -  had lived a lifetime worth of the horrors it could be used to perpetrate. She was distraught at the idea that she could (albeit accidentally) be playing any part of subjecting him to that level of violation. 

“Hey.” Luke reached out, caught a finger under her chin and turned her head toward him. “Don't even think that. This is nothing like what the Emperor did to you.” 

_I can't fix this._ She didn't even try to speak out loud.  _I – It's enslavement. Conscription. It's **wrong**. I did this, and I can't undo it._

“ _ **I**_ did it, Mara,” Luke countered, firmly. “I knew about your gift - the boundaries. You told me meditation was a bad idea, and I didn't listen. _I_ reached in and grabbed _you_. This is not your fault – not something you _did to_ me.”

She closed her eyes, and turned her face back up to the ceiling, still sick and unconvinced. Luke let his hand rest on her shoulder.

_It'll be all right, Jade._ He let out a shaky breath. _It'll have to be._

_\- -_

_Early 12 ABY_

Luke fumbled for his alarm, managing to blindly turn it off on his third try. Usually awake with the jungle sun, today he rubbed sleep from gritty eyes and hauled himself from bed over his body's objections. He'd been up late mediating interpersonal drama between two of his students, then dealing with his own consequent discouragement. Founding the Academy on Yavin had been a huge step toward accomplishing his destiny. He just hadn't expected it to come with so many mundane grievances. It was hard to feel like a proper Jedi Master when he spent hours managing adults who squabbled like children.

Stripping off what little he'd worn to bed, Luke headed for the fresher and stepped into the sani-steam. His native Tatooine heart was still awed most days by how freely water flowed here, the luxuries – like long, hot showers – that it's abundance made possible. Turning under the spray, he frowned when he felt a twinge in his shoulder. Reaching up, he probed the joint, trying to think if he'd done anything to it yesterday. Out of habit, he simultaneously prodded his Mara-place.

Her presence was muffled in the dampening of sensation he recognized as a healing trance, and Luke let his hand drop from his shoulder. It wasn't his pain, then. _What did you do this time, Jade?_ he wondered with an affectionate shake of his head, knowing full well she couldn't hear him.

When he'd finished his shower and pulled on his standard Jedi blacks, Luke emerged into the main room of his apartment. Artoo disconnected from the power terminal he'd been plugged into and whistled a greeting.

“Good morning,” Luke answered, heading for the narrow galley kitchen. “Ping the _Fire_ , will you Artoo? Mara's in a healing trance.”

//She will just tell you not to worry,// the droid blatted, amused. Still, he rolled toward the comm console to comply.

“Yes,” Luke agreed, amicably, as he tossed a few scoops of hot chocolate mix into his caff and stirred until the mug steamed with the rich scent of cocoa. “But if she's feeling generous, she'll also tell me what I'm not supposed to be worrying _about_.”

//Stop worrying, Skywalker – it was just a few cranky Gammoreans. Relax, Farmboy. Just pulled Dankin out of a bar fight – nothing a few hours in a trance won't clean up.// Artoo dryly repeated the last two such messages they'd received in response to similar pings.

Despite his ribbing, the little droid never minded the request to ping the _Fire._ He adored Mara's ship, and she always quietly included a little treat for him in her electronic replies. A new bit of code Ghent had developed, the latest encrypt keys for the _Fire_ , a copy of a rare file she'd picked up Force-knew-where to expand his internal data bases. He knew Master Luke suspected she was doing something of the sort, but he never said anything. The Jedi did occasionally accuse Mara of attempting to seduce Artoo away from him, but she always replied unrepentantly that if he bothered to get something other than that archaic hunk of junk x-wing to fly, she'd lose her appeal to the little droid entirely. That inevitably led to comfortable, well-trodden banter about the respective value and merits of their ships. It was a familiar behavior pattern that Artoo approved of; it never failed to raised Master Luke's spirits when they were flagging or decrease his blood pressure when he was stressed. He'd come to rely on Jade for those sorts of quiet interventions.

Mara's work kept her on the move – and Master Luke's protectiveness typically kept her removed from all but brief interactions with the other Jedi. But (after a chaotic adjustment period) since her accidental bonding with Artoo's master, she had become comfortably and inextricably woven into their lives. She was ever-present in subtle ways and, after extensive review of the data, Artoo had conclusively determined that they were better for it.

// Message sent.// He informed his human.  He didn't bother to add what they both knew: i f she was in a healing trance, it would be a while before she replied. 

“Thanks,” Luke said, sipping his chocolate caff and collecting his data pad off the desk. “Let's see what the latest crisis is today, shall we?” 

\- -

_Late 12 ABY_

The _Fire_ landed smoothly in the Solos' restricted hangar. Han was waiting impatiently at the foot of the ramp when Mara emerged.

“Tell me that you can do for Leia whatever you're doing for the kids,” he demanded without preamble.

“Not _for_ her,” Mara shook her head. A series of beeps went off behind her as she hit the button on her beckon call remote and the _Fire's_ ramp retracted, it's hatch sealed and locked. She fell into step beside him, and they set a good pace toward the private entrance. “But I can show her how to do it herself.”

“Thank the Gods,” Solo muttered. “She hasn't slept properly since we pulled Luke off the _Eye_. If you weren't shielding the kids, the whole house would be in melt-down mode.”

“What the kriff happened?”

“Don't tell me you haven't read the reports,” Han looked at her askance as they entered the waiting lift and it began whisking them upwards.

“All of them,” she confirmed. “But I want to hear it from you.”

“The spirit of a Jedi got herself stuck in the _Eye's_ electronics. One of Luke's students lost her boyfriend and suicided over it. Jedi spirit hopped in the conveniently empty body and followed the Kid out before the ship blew – but somehow didn't take her Force access with her.” Han scowled grimly. “Now they think they're in love.”

“You think otherwise.”

Han gave her a terse look. “When we pulled him out, Luke hadn't slept in a couple of days and was sporting a pretty impressive concussion - I think he was lucky to know his own name.”

Jade considered that silently as the lift drifted to a stop and opened on the Solo's floor. They stepped out and, as she'd known they would be, two little faces were peeking around the main entrance door of the Solo's apartment.

“Annara!!” The Solo twins squealed, eliding “aunt” and “mara” together in their excitement, as they hurtled down the hall as fast as their chubby three-year-old legs would carry them.

Mara braced as they flung themselves at her, each wrapping around one of her legs and clinging tenaciously. Pasting a glower on her face, she leaned down to examine them. “Solo – I thought Organa told you no pets in here – what on Hoth are you doing with these two little Kowakian monkey-lizards?”

The twins shrieked with laughter, their delight bubbling through Mara's chest as sweet and frothy as Bespin cloud meringue.

“I'm keepin' 'em for Chewie,” Han shrugged with a grin. Then he leaned down and plucked Jacen off Mara's right leg, tucking the toddler sideways under one arm, earning fresh peals of laughter.

Mara hoisted Jaina up to her hip and gave her a mock serious look. “I don't know, they look pretty scrawny for Wookie snacks.”

“Aunt _Mara,”_ Jaina giggled. “It's us!” 

Mara sent a pulse of unabashed affection to both of the children as their little group entered the apartment. “Why, so it is!” she exclaimed in exaggerated surprise. “You must have been practicing your Force illusions – I didn't even recognize you!”

Jacen turned suddenly enormous eyes to his adopted aunt. “You can do that?”

Mara shook her head. “Not me, but I bet Jedi Horn could – if you ask nicely,” she added.

“Mara.”

Jade turned to see a thoroughly exhausted Leia and quietly concerned Winter enter from the living room. “All right, little monkeys,” she said immediately, “I need to talk to your mother.”

Winter stepped forward and held out her arms. Jaina reluctantly allowed herself to be transferred, and Han slid Jacen to the floor. He accepted Winter's free hand, and the stately Alderaanian woman gracefully led them toward their room, murmuring quietly about doing some drawings for Aunt Mara to take with her for the walls of her ship.

Leia came forward and embraced Mara. “Thank you for coming,” the Princess said wearily.

“Of course,” Mara dismissed the thanks. “Come on, let's get you sorted out.”

Han followed them to the living room, where Leia sank onto a sofa.

Mara dropped to a kneeling position in front of her and took both of Leia's hands in hers. “Don't reach,” she reminded the other woman. “Just be open.”

Leia nodded, then gave a soft moan of relief as Mara carefully fed a gentle stream of Force energy into her, refreshing her s leep -deprived body. When the transfer stopped, Leia sat up a little straighter. Her coloring was better and she looked noticeably more alert. She took a few deep, calming breaths, then nodded decisively. “I'm ready.” 

Mara moved to sit on the couch beside Leia, angling so they faced each other. “Watch and follow what I do,” she instructed. “There's nothing involved you don't know the basics of, it's just the sequence that matters.”

Leia nodded and closed her eyes. Han watched intensely as the minutes ticked away, both women sitting motionlessly. He didn't have access to the Force, but he knew his wife. Could tell that whatever Mara was doing  to improve or alter Leia's shields was working by the fractional but consistent easing of the knotted muscles in Leia's shoulders. 

After seemingly ages, Leia let out a puff of breath and sagged backward against the sofa cushions. “Thank the Force. I love my brother, but I thought I was going to have to kill him.”

Mara rolled her head, working out kinks in her neck. “He has been rather loud.”

Leia raised her eyebrows. “Rather loud? Anakin has been beside himself, and I haven't taken this many headache suppressors since the Ackbar/Fey'lya debacle during the Thrawn campaign.”

“Speaking of Anakin,” Han prompted, getting up and moving to the portable cradle positioned at the end of the sofa. He reached in and lifted the infant out of his nest of blankets with the ease of an experienced father. “You need him to be awake?”

Mara looked between them. “You're sure?” she asked again, even though she knew what the answer would be.

“Positive,” Leia replied, firmly. She glanced at Han who nodded with equal determination, then looked back at Mara. “You've been a god-send for the twins, Mara. I know it's an imposition, but unless you're unwilling, I can't imagine denying Kin the same protection and comfort you've been able to offer the twins.” She gestured to herself. “My gifts lie in other areas.”

“Mine too,” Han joked, passing the baby into Mara's arms. “So it's all you, Jade.”

Three years before, Mara had been massively uncomfortable with the idea of holding an infant. Her accidental bonding with the twins had caused tremendous angst, as she struggled with her fears of damaging their innocent little minds with her own troubled history and it's ramifications. Now, she accepted Anakin with confidence.

“Hey, Kin,” she murmured to him softly, nudging his tiny hand with a fingertip. The baby shifted in his sleep, mouth opening and closing a few times in a miniature scowl. His flawless little fingers reflexively opened, latched onto her proffered finger, then closed tightly around it. He made a soft snuffling noise before settling back into sleep again.

Mara closed her eyes, and reached out gently in the Force. Cradled the small, brilliant gem of light that was Anakin Solo in her metaphysical palm and wove a cocoon of her own presence around him. Slowly, she pulled at a thread at the edge, shrinking the bubble of her Force touch until it seeped through his skin, settling pleasantly and painlessly into him. Checking her work, she traced the thread from one end to the other and found it – as intended – neatly linking them as cleanly and firmly as she was linked to his older siblings. Still asleep, the baby instinctively nuzzled against the solid calm of her larger presence as he would have the warmth of a parent's shoulder.

Mara dipped her head and brushed a kiss across his fine, downy hair. _You are safe and loved, Anakin. Aunt Mara will_ _never let anyone hurt you_ _._

She would never – _could_ never - have children, but Mara loved the Solo children as fiercely as if they were her own.

It was a well kept secret that she'd babysat for the twins whenever she was on planet, giving Han, Leia, Winter, and Chewie rare nights off when she could. (After reading every major text on child rearing in the known galaxy, of course. Mara never did anything without proper research if she could help it. And there were benefits to working for an Information Broker, after all – not the least of them being that no one thought to ask questions or make assumptions when you asked for a particular text or resource. They just assumed it was for a job and provided it, no questions asked.)

Even more closely guarded (because no one wanted to find out what creative method she'd use to slaughter the first person who told) was that she'd learned traditional Alderannian lullabies to sing to Jacen and Jaina as she paced up and down the halls of the Presidential floor at 500 Republica with them on those nights. Only Luke – who she'd threatened with _immediate_ reinstatement of the Last Command if he ever breathed a _word_ of it – knew that she alternated those elegant lullabies with crooned pirate shanties and melancholy drinking songs from a dozen worlds when they were fussy and in need of a little more variety to soothe them. Anakin was a late-comer to the private world Mara shared with his siblings, but if his light in the Force was any indication, he had every intention of catching up quickly.

Opening her eyes, Mara shared a private smile with Leia. “All set,” she said softly. “Can you see it?”

Leia concentrated, less practiced at “seeing” in the Force than her brother. Then her face lit up. “It's beautiful, Mara.” She tipped her head. “Is it… different?”

The Solos were treated to the rare sight of Mara flushing. “Functionally, no.” She looked for the right words. “Esthetically, yes.” She gave them a bemused look. “When a bond is intentional, I can make the link, well, _decorative,_ for lack of a better term. Unique.” She glanced fondly at the sleeping baby. “Anakin is the first one I got to intentionally link with, so I made his connection a bit more elegant to look at.” She grimaced in self-deprecation at the indulgence. “Not that anyone will get to see it, of course. It's mostly just for me.”

Leia reached over, put a hand on Mara's arm and squeezed. “I think it's perfect,” she said firmly.

“An' if it protects him from Luke's current craziness, I don't care what it looks like.” Han brought them back to the primary reason Mara was there in the first place.

“Right,” Leia said, leaning back and becoming all business.

“I'm obligated to tell you,” Mara informed them, “that Talon is willing comp this visit if you give me information about Jedi Master Ming that we don't already have.”

Han's eyebrow raised. “He's that interested, huh?”

“Of course he is,” Leia remonstrated. “Even without the Force, Callista is seriously changing the power dynamics of the Order – and she's only just gotten here.” To Mara, she said, “We'll tell you everything we know, but it's up to you what you tell Talon. I'm more than willing to pay for your time – I feel a dozen times better already.”

“Is Luke going to be able to tell?” Han asked, curiously, looking at Mara and motioning at his wife.

“With as distracted as he's been the last few weeks, it might be a while before he notices,” Mara told him with a disapproving frown. “But as soon as he gets around to looking at it directly, absolutely. My shielding patterns are unique, and not something you'd stumble on accidentally. He'll recognize them, and know where she got them.” She gave him a good humored smirk. “He knows where to find me if he wants to complain.”

“He'll do no such thing,” Leia interjected firmly. “I have a right to sleep, and if he can't keep his own shields in place I'm entitled to take steps myself. Now, let's compare notes. This might take a while – Han, will you pour us some wine?”

Mara raised a staying hand. “If we're going to be discussing Farmboy's love life, I could do with something stronger.”

“Me too,” Han agreed. “Coming right up.”

Five minutes later, Solo and Mara had glasses of a respectable vintage of Whyren's, and an elegant, properly chilled goblet of Algarine wine rested by Leia's side. Anakin had been transferred to his mother's shoulder, one of her hands rubbing soft circles on his back, and Mara had a heavily encrypted data pad resting on her knee.

“All right,” Jade said, her mouth set in a grim line. “Talk to me about Master Ming.”

**Author's Note:**

> Although she didn't show up in this chapter, please know that there will no demonizing of Callista in this work. She may not be written exactly to character as per (former?) cannon, but she will be as real and valid a character as I can make her. No cat fights here!


End file.
